Silvery Spells

In the quiet dusk, where shadows twine,
A gray witch weaves her silvery design.
Beneath the moon’s soft, enchanting light,
She conjures spells, both dark and bright.

Her fingertips, a dance in the mist,
Tracing runes of secrets, softly kissed.
A whispered language, ancient and wise,
Echoes through the night, under moonlit skies.

Silvery spells, like threads in the air,
Weaving through realms, beyond compare.
A dance of magic, a mysterious trance,
As she calls upon the moon’s silver glance.

With eyes aglow, like orbs of the night,
She summons powers, hidden from sight.
A mystic melody, a bewitching song,
Drawing forth forces that have slumbered long.

In the silvered forest, where shadows play,
Her incantations hold the night at bay.
The world transformed by her sorcery,
A realm where dreams and reality agree.

A silhouette against the moon’s soft glow,
She spins enchantments, to and fro.
Silvery spells, a tapestry spun,
In the heart of the night, where magic is done.